Butterfly with Broken Wings
by moonlightgirl95
Summary: The story of the butterfly and her mage. Clow/Yuuko.


He'd teased her, the first time they'd met, both of them dining at the same restaurant in Paris that fanciful night. He'd raised his wine to her in a toast and told her she was as pretty as the butterfly in her hair (the pin had been her grandmother's.) He'd asked if she knew how to fly, if she'd take him away to somewhere magical someday. She'd laughed (everyone knew mages couldn't fly) and asked playfully if an oddball like him really intended to be a powerful mage someday (the glasses were rather absurd, but his magical aura was undoubtedly strong.) He had smiled and they had continued the little banter until both wine glasses were empty and the restaurant empty but for them. He'd stood, performed a graceful little mockery of a bow, and asked if she'd like to accompany him home. She wasn't drunk because she never got drunk and she wasn't stupid either, but she said yes anyway. He'd kissed her hand and murmured,

"My fair butterfly." Later that night, amidst kisses and promises and dreams, she decided she loved butterflies.

* * *

He had been courting her for quite a while, but time didn't matter because nothing mattered to _hitsuzen_. The inevitable; he talked of it often, softly caressing the word like he caressed her hair, her cheeks, her lips. She had entertained the concept before but never fully believed in it. Until now.

* * *

Until now, in her soft white sheets where a dying butterfly clutched her mage and the mage wished something foolish but inevitable.

* * *

Knowing she was trapped in a spaceless, timeless dimension, naturally she went through a state of depression. She began to drink more and began to dress extravagantly, changing fancy dresses and kimonos every so often and never wearing the same thing twice. Clothes worn once before carried memories and Yuuko wanted nothing more of the sort. Memories were burdensome…and painful. Anything to stop the pain.

She tried different hairstyles, different names, became a whirlwind of lies and the make-believe; she lost herself to every cup of alcohol she downed, every filling of pipe she smoked. Her life unraveled into a wisp of smoke that smelled of incense and butterflies with broken wings.

* * *

"Yuuko."

"It's Saiko today. I'm 22, and single."

"I thought you were 28 and engaged."

"That was yesterday. I'm far too tired to bear the burden of an engagement today."

"Perhaps. Will you be married tomorrow, at another age, under another name?" His voice was amused, but his eyes were bright with anguish.

"Perhaps," I echoed lightly. "I'm debating between marriage at 19 or divorce at 21. If I'm feeling tragic, the divorce will do. Maybe Haruhi, or Tsukino. What do you think?"

His voice slid into despair. "Love, you know what I think."

I said nothing. Being myself was much too difficult.

He shook his head, as if he could read my thoughts. "I don't care how many times you change your name, or address, or how long you've been alive." I cringed at the last one. "To me, you will always be – "

* * *

I sat by his scarcely breathing figure, hardly daring to breathe myself. I thought I'd used up all my tears, but the moisture sliding down my cheeks proved otherwise.

His eyes, almost closed, had lost the burning look they'd worn for the last century or so. The look he'd worn every time he thought I wasn't looking. And sometimes even when he knew I was.

He smiled weakly and tried to brush my tears away with a trembling hand. "Who are you today?" he whispered.

I shook harder, the tears coming faster. "Anyone you want me to be."

His eyes closed, then opened again. "You know what I want." He sighed. "But I won't be the one to decide.

"You will.

"You know," he said, trying to be cheerful, "Yuuko's a pretty name. I think it suits you."

"…Yuuko?"

"Yes. It reminds me of the sound of a butterfly's wings as it takes flight. Yuuko, my butterfly, my love." He sighed again, began to slip away. I grasped his hand, as if I could keep him there by holding on tightly enough.

"Clow – " I was still crying but my voice was quiet and firm. "Clow, I love you.

"Forever." I bent down and pressed my lips to his one final time.

He kissed me back, murmured my name, and died.


End file.
